Letters and Chocolate
by The Manga Witch
Summary: Two-shot for Valentine's Day. Thiefshipping.
1. Side Marik

**Hey, everyone! Happy Self Appreciation Day! Get any chocolate? **

**Anyway, this is a two-shot. A thiefshipping one. Oooh. I've never, ever, ever, ever written anything slightly romantic so feel free to bash this into oblivion. Also, it's not very... romantic. Just saying. Oh, it is a pairing. I just can't write satisfying conclusions for crap. **

**Side Marik: Letters **

_Read it._

_Re-read it._

_Check spelling, grammar, punctuation._

_Look at those details, aesthetics. Are the words evenly spaced? Is the card well-folded? Is the signature passable?_

_Put it in an envelope, lick it shut and seal it well. _

_Walk to the mailbox, one step at a time and breathe when necessary. _

Marik stared at the white envelope for what seemed like an eternity, switching his gaze from it to the mailbox. Now that he thought about it, maybe he did spell something wrong. He walked back to the house and scrapped the envelope, his eighth one. Whoever had said "third time's the charm" was truly mislead. He grabbed another pen and another coloured paper and started to scribble furiously. Why was this so hard? It's just a friggin' letter!

Not good enough, not good enough. It's almost perfect, Marik thought, as he didn't even bother to wrap an envelope around the scrap he'd just produced.

"Maybe… I just need a breather." He concluded, walking towards the kitchen.

The first thing Marik heard was a soft engine, no doubt the stove running; then, a frantic prattling of cutlery, followed by a final frustrated grunt.

"Bakura?" Marik finally decided to cut in "What are you doing to our kitchen?"

"Piss off, Marik." Bakura, the white haired man currently struggling with an egg beater replied.

"Is this… chocolate?" Marik asked, walking towards the messy counter and staring at the confections, mildly amused.

"I told you to piss off."

Marik ignored Bakura's warnings again and popped one of the delicacies in his mouth, savouring the taste "These are great! Where'd you buy them?"

"I made them, idiot."

"…you're joking." Bakura didn't make chocolate. Bakura stole chocolate from little children.

"I _told_ you to piss off."

Marik ignored him, "Why are you making chocolate, anyway?" Even though he could already guess the reason, considering the time of year, he still needed it confirmed.

"Hungry." The curt reply came, sounding a bit… forced?

"Why didn't you buy some?"

"No money." Marik sighed to himself in relief; of course Bakura wouldn't make chocolates for anyone. That would be silly. With his heart a bit lighter than when he'd entered the kitchen, he left,carrying with him a batch of Bakura's chocolates.

As soon as he got back up to his own room his spirits sunk again. The card. He just couldn't make it… not this year. He picked his large, paper ridden scrap bin and dragged it to recycling. As he once again made way to his room he couldn't help but sigh at the date:

_February 13__th_

He'd just have to try harder next year.


	2. Side Bakura

**Side Bakura: Chocolate**

_Butter, milk, sugar, chocolate._

In theory, those are the ingredients for homemade Milk Chocolate. It says so on every book and every website. The milk to balance the taste, the butter to keep it from going too sweet, the sugar to cancel out the butter and the chocolate for flavour; Bakura found these ingredients ridiculous. Milk and chocolate would only cancel each other out, as well as butter and sugar.

And yet he tried, and failed, dozens of times to make sweet, alluring thing people called "chocolate". He measured the ingredients carefully, acutely pouring the right quantities. Everything had to be perfect and precise, he couldn't afford to fail.

Another pile of scrapped chocolate was thrown aside, as the white-haired man let out a groan of frustration and tried again.

"Bakura?" A familiar, annoying voice rang out from the kitchen door, "What are you doing to our kitchen?"

"Piss off, Marik." Bakura replied, gripping the beater a bit more tightly.

But Marik didn't "piss off"; he walked slowly to the other man's workplace and took one of his "failures" in his tanned and manicured little hands, "Is this… chocolate?"

"I told you to piss off."

The tanned man paid no attention to the other's menacing tone and popped one of the chocolates into his mouth. He chewed, slowly, savoring the delicate taste, "These are great! Where'd you buy them?"

"I made them, idiot."

"…you're joking."

"I _told_ you to piss off."

The blond ignored him "Why are you making chocolate, anyway?"

"Hungry." The curt reply came, a bit forced.

"Why didn't you buy some?"

"No money."

What felt like an eternity went by until the blond finally decided to leave, taking with him the third batch of the failed candy. _Too sweet_ had thought Bakura, when he tasted them. Not another word was exchanged during the whole day.

The next morning the garbage man found a certain trash can to be littered with chocolates. Bakura had opted on giving Marik his typical pat on the back, along with the "don't think too hard or you'll hurt yourself" he'd always say when the tanned man left.

As Marik left, the white haired man looked at the calendar and sighed.

_February 14__th_

He'd just have to try harder next year.

**See what I mean? No satisfying conclusion. Ever. **

**Fun fact: I wrote Bakura's side a month ago, but I wrote Marik's only two days ago. **

**Love, **

**Grandpa~  
**


End file.
